


But no one ever tells you (That forever feels like home)

by Deanpool



Category: DCU, Green Lantern (Comics), Justice League, The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Psychosis, Suicidal Thoughts, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanpool/pseuds/Deanpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Flash was dead. </p><p>Dead.</p><p>Hal still couldn't wrap his mind around that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But no one ever tells you (That forever feels like home)

**Author's Note:**

> I've debated with myself if I should make this it's own story or keep it in my usual HalBarry collection because its tone differs a lot from what I usually write.
> 
> So if you can't deal with depressions, suicidal thought, mild self-harming or the beginnings of a psychosis, you should maybe skip this one.

The Flash was dead. 

Dead.

Hal still couldn't wrap his mind around that. His best friend had died while Hal had been on some mission in space. He couldn't even remember what it had been about. And now he had nothing left but a piece of Barry's suit. 

Barry Allen was dead. 

The words stirred something in his mind and Hal could feel something slowely breaking inside of his chest. He had heard that people could acutally die from heart break. Was he dying? Was this what death felt like? As his soul slowly withered, it left nothing but dull pain and darkness behind. And Hal knew that one day that darkness would swallow him whole and hopefully end all of his suffering.

 

 

Barry. 

Was. 

Dead.

 

 

It took a while for it to sink in but when it eventually did, Hal didn't break down crying. He didn't even rage as everyone had expected him to since the very first day. Hal's behaviour was quite contrary actually. He pulled back. From his numerous affairs, his remaining friends, his family. More often than not he was in space, chasing after another galactic criminal that he had to bring down. One way or another. 

Contrary to popular belief, Hal didn't get overly wreckless. He could still distinguish between a dangerous situation and certain suicide. Maybe even a bit better than before. But sometimes thoughts of how he could die in space popped into his head and filled a bit of the void in his chest with longing for something he couldn't quite name.

Hal hadn't cried at Barry's funeral or at any time after that. He had felt horribly out of place with everyone snivelling and weeping all around him while he himself just couldn't. There wasn't something inside of him blocking him like some of the others thought. Hal just didn't cry when someone died. He never had. Not when his father had died, or his mother more than a decade later. He hated the people who constantely pitied him and tried to make him believe that everything would be alright if he just cried and got over Barry. He almost hated them as much as he hated himself most days.

Eventhough, he never shed any tears when it came to Barry, little things brought him to the brink of tears. Not that he ever let anyone see it. So he suffered alone. After another fight and break-up with Carol, after failing to do his job, after failing to even get up in the morning, after Jack's death. 

His big brother's death had been horrible. Or it would have been if Hal could actually still feel anything at all. Standing in front of Jack's coffin, Hal felt laughter bubbling up in him and couldn't stop laughing until his throat was hoarse and tears came streaming down his face. His younger brother Jim held him tightly in his arms through all of it.

"You need help, big brother." He said, cheeck firmly pressed to the top of Hal's head. "Something is not okay with you."

He had never told anyone about the nightmares which made him wake up shaking and breathless in the middle of the night. That made him see Barry die over and over again, his friend's blood on his hands and seeping into the ground, and he just couldn't stop it. Screams woke him usually from these dreams and it always took Hal a few moments to realize it was himself screaming Barry's name over and over again. 

But one of the worst changes for Hal was that fear started to make it's way into his every being. Like a little child he got scared of the dark again and sleeping without any source of light was next to impossible if he didn't want the nightmares to plague his dreams. He started seeing shadows move and people starting to appear in the corner of his eye. They were always gone as soon as he turned around but it still scared him to his very core every single time. Panic attacks were starting to become a normal part of his life. He could never say when the next one would hit or what would even trigger it this time. There were completely unpredictable and so was he by now. 

He had good times. Weeks were he was in an unbeatable good mood and hardly slept at all. Where he could pretend that everything was alright. That he was alright. But they never lasted long.

After a while, he started noticing that pain felt good. It had been accident the first time around. Just a bruise on his arm from a recent fight that he kept bumping against but instead of just the usual pain, the tight knot of anxiety in his chest seemed to loosen a bit. So he kept pushing the bruise again and again until it dissappeared a few days later. Hal never started cutting himself. He didn't feel like letting the whole world know that he was slowly losing control over his own actions. So he started biting, scratching and hitting himself over and over again. If he was being honest with himself, his self-control had slipped away from him a long time ago.

Maybe even before Barry’s death.

"Barry. Barry. Barry."

He speedster had been the only person Hal had ever fully opened up to. Barry had known that even the great Hal Jordan was sometimes scared. Scared so much that he forgot how to breath. To eat. To sleep. In contrast to his own hectic powers, Barry had always been a calming influence on Hal's life and comforted him more than once after another attack. Barry had seen him at his most miserable. Weak and crying like a little lost boy. Not even Carol or Tom had ever seen this side of him. He'd never been able to risk it. 

"But now he is dead and it is your fault." A tiny voice in his mind whispered. "If you had just been there, you could have saved him."

The voice kept appearing more and more often lately. Hal was glad whenever it was just the one in his head because then he knew it was actually himself and not the voices outside of his head. It all started when Hal heard noices in his apartment and someone that kept calling his name no matter where he was. The more often it happened, the clearer they got until he was actually hearing people he knew. Carol kept calling him in space, Bruce grumbled behind him on Elysium, Clark whenever he went to Oa and then there was Barry. Barry’s voice was pleading. Asking him to finally stop running and to turn around but whenever Hal did, no one was there. The voices were scaring him the most.

"Please, please help me."

He wasn't above begging anymore. This wasn't normal. You didn't just keep hearing dead people. Not outside of dreams. And if this was a dream, it was definitely a nightmare he just had to wake out of. 

And it would be so easy to end it. To climb onto the nearest roof and let himself fall and fly for a second and maybe be alive again before he hit the ground. To just shove a gun into his mouth and pull the trigger. In his weakest moments, he thought about taking the sleeping pills he had been prescribed lately all at ones. He hoarded them in his beside table.

He needed help. He couldn't deny Jim's words anymore. He wasn't okay and hadn't been in a long time. Most days he felt more dead than alive; the numbness was wrapping like a blanket around his senses; threatening to suffocate him and pull him into the dark emptiness inside his chest.

"I...I just need help...Barry."

His voice broke and left another voice in its place.

"I have heard you, Hal Jordan and I am here to save you."

Panic was blooming in his chest again. Cutting of his air, making him feel light-headed and tired. Hal tried struggling against it but it was no use. Fear made him unable to move.

"Just let it happen." Purred the voice. "You must be so tired after all. There's no one left who cares about you. Not your father. Not your mother or your older brother. Not even your little friend Barry. You want to see them, don't you? Then just give in."

His first instice was to keep fighting but the voice was right. He was just so tired and all fight went out of him.

"Who are you?"

Even talking in his mind was getting tricky by now. He could see movement out of the corner of his eyes and when he slowly turned his head around, he could see a figure made out of yellow light.

"Call me Parallax, Hal Jordan."

The creature pulled him into its arms and Hal didn't feel empty anymore as he nodded of into a deep slumber.


End file.
